


The End of Our Road

by hutchynstarsk



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hutchynstarsk/pseuds/hutchynstarsk
Summary: Kid Curry thinking about things while they travel, and then a brief argument between the boys.
Kudos: 2





	The End of Our Road

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted here: https://hutchynstarsk.livejournal.com/63653.html

**The end of our road**

by Allie

“Rode enough for the day, Kid?”

Heh. Heyes was the first to say it. It wasn’t supposed to be a contest, but to Curry, at least today, it had been.

He smiled a small, private smile. “Sure, Heyes.” He reined his horse in closer to Heyes’. “Over there?” He nodded to a little knoll, as good a place to sleep as any.

“No, up ahead—see the stream?”

Curry hadn’t, and he had good eyes. But Heyes seemed to see ahead—about a lot of things. It made it easy to doubt yourself, when someone else was always right. That’s why Curry had to set himself little tasks sometimes, to see if he could last a little longer, or could think a little further ahead for once, figure something out after Heyes had given up on it and moved on to something else.

Or shoot better. He knew he could do that, didn’t have to prove it. But sometimes he did, anyway.

Heyes never seemed to really care. No competitive instinct, Curry sometimes thought. He’d just smile his charming smile and talk people quietly out of or into whatever he wanted them to do. He could even apologize to jerks when it wasn’t his fault, and not let it seem to get to him later. Like he didn’t have anything to prove.

He never even seemed to need to prove his superior intellect, either; he just took it for granted, the way he’d always been ahead of Curry. When they were kids, he was two years older and smarter, even if he wasn’t any faster or bigger.

Curry had been a big kid, gangling and rawboned, growing into his height before he could adjust to it. Clumsiness was something he’d outgrown—and worked darn hard to outgrow. He’d practiced with the gun enough, too—it wasn’t just some knack. Heyes seemed to think he’d be further ahead reading ‘stead of shooting, but somebody needed to be good with a gun, especially with the trouble they got into, with their luck.

Now, Curry found himself doing the silent testing again. What had given the stream away to Heyes so far ahead? It was getting dark, and they were getting closer, but you still couldn’t see it. So how had he seen it ahead? Curry could ask, but then he’d be the kid again—not “Kid,” Heyes’ equal and pal, but that little kid again, asking what words meant, getting his older cousin to explain the world to him.

Now he saw: birds heading that way, and a kind of shininess there, reflective-like. It gave him a little spike of accomplishment to find it. Maybe he’d be the one to spot it, next time.

Not that Heyes would mind. He’d probably just give Curry that proud smile and say, “You…” Like Curry was his prodegey, or something. Prodigee. Something like that. It was a real word; Heyes had said it once.

They rode till they reached the stream and then hobbled their horses so they could graze, and got out their bedrolls. It was a warm night, and there was no need to announce their presence with a fire: they didn’t make one. Some things they agreed on without having to talk, or even exchange a glance; they just both knew. It was a comfortable pattern, really: he didn’t know why he had to question it for. The Kid was the Kid and Heyes was Heyes, that was all. Why did he want to go and be the brains for, anyway? Heyes had that covered.

“Gonna wash up?” said Heyes, the first either one had spoken in awhile. He just sort of had a blank expression on his face and in his black eyes. He had some of the most expressive eyes, and that big smile, but right now he wasn’t turning on the charm. He was just himself, flat exhausted, not trying to impress anybody. You might say his barriers or defenses were down, same as Curry wasn’t eying the landscape ready to go for his gun, looking out for potential opponents.

“Sure,” said Curry. They knelt in front of the stream, cleaned up a little. Curry made sure he was upwind of Heyes. Heyes got a little smelly after a long ride. Of course, Curry knew he was no bed of roses after a long ride either, himself.

Now it was getting really dark.

“Night, Kid,” said Heyes in a voice so tired it was gravelly. Briefly, Curry wondered if he’d missed an opportunity to look after his cousin; maybe should’ve been the first to speak up and suggest they knock off earlier. Maybe he’d let Heyes push himself too far. You couldn’t always tell with Heyes. He’d just cheerfully keep going and not give up for nothing, but sometimes he got awful tired. Well, he’d be all right after a good sleep, and Curry would look after the both of them better tomorrow.

“Night, Heyes,” said Curry, and crawled into his own bedroll.

He was tired enough, but he couldn’t sleep. He’d been doing entirely too much thinking today, and now he was doing more, like once his mind got started, it couldn’t seem to stop.

He thought about him and Heyes, and how they still stuck to those long-ago patterns set up when they were little.

Even when they were kids, Heyes was good at talking his way out of trouble. Curry always seemed to end up using his fists. Heyes was also good at giving the adults what they wanted—sincerity, earnestness—while Curry would just stand there and look sullen, even if he didn’t mean to.

It became normal for Heyes to be the one to talk, to get them both out of trouble, and Curry to go along with whatever he said, backing him up.

Heyes couldn’t cure his cousin of his fisticuffs, and they were sometimes useful to him. His ‘little’ cousin by his side, backing him up, made them both a force to be reckoned with, instead of just a talker and a fighter, each on his own.

Curry still listened to him, still trusted him, but sometimes he found himself more and more discontent with the role of follower, and would try to find ways to make himself fill other roles—protector, thinker, strong guy.

Even though they were both about the same size, Curry was a little bigger, and a little stronger. His cousin had always been wiry and strong, tireless, while Curry had a big rawboned gawkiness about him while growing up. It translated to a lot of strength, but he didn’t have a lot of stamina while he was a kid—if they rode long, he’d just about fall off his horse by the end of it—but he always recovered quickly, and the stamina had come as he matured. Now, he could outride Heyes if he ever had to—leastwise, he was pretty sure he could.

Curry was always pushing himself, to prove what a man he was, prove he was tough, or when he had to make somebody take something back. Heyes seemed, sometimes, to be content just surviving. Sure it was hard for him to swear off cracking safes, but he was doin’ good at it, and he didn’t seem to mind at all, all the junk they had to put up with every day.

Curry wondered how two cousins could be so different. He thought of all the ways Heyes had looked after him while he was that clumsy, awkward, angry, easily-tiring kid. Thought of how glad he was any time he could return the favor, then and now that they were older, and how it still sometimes bugged him when he couldn’t, when Heyes needed to stick up or look after him yet again.

“Kid” might be his name, but he didn’t want to be the kid forever—perpetually Heyes’ little cousin, his tagalong.

Maybe that was part of why he couldn’t seem to say no to a confrontation. Why Heyes had to practically beg him not to get into a gunfight. It was easy for Heyes, because he just didn’t care about that. Or if he did, he could deal with that caring another way. For Curry, it wasn’t so easy. He couldn’t back down; he had to prove himself to any jerk who questioned him. If it had to be with guns, then so be it. He was good with guns.

And Heyes was good with everything else.

#

Curry was in the middle of a nice dream—something about jumping into a cool, clear lake—when Heyes shook him by the shoulder. “Best be getting up, Kid. We got a long day of riding ahead.”

Curry grunted and rolled over, trying to pull his blanket, and the dream, back around him.

Heyes didn’t say anything more, but Curry was awake now, and grumpy about the missing dream. The smell of fresh coffee almost made up for it. Heyes had made a little fire and brung some coffee to a boil, and boy was it sharp. They were running low on grounds, Heyes shouldn’t have used ‘em full strength like this. Curry made a face as he drank the bracing brew, but didn’t say anything.

He became aware of Heyes watching him over his own mug. Watching him a bit more closely than he liked, with an expression of fox-like cunning on his face. It was rare to see him for long without a smile, but he wasn’t smiling right now. Behind his cup, with his hat pulled low, he looked really sneaky and disreputable—a very un-Heyes-like look somehow.

Heyes saw him watching, and smiled and put down his cup. “Feeling proddy, Kid?” There it was, the brilliant smile—the conman grin, only for Curry, it was a real one, every time. Or most times. Or…heck, what did he know, really?

“Heyes…”

“Yeah, Kid?” An encouraging smile this time—encourage the kid to speak up, patronize him by listenin’ to his opinions, or pretending to.

…Where was all of this coming from? For a second Curry wanted to back off, not say anything, keep all these private and shameful thoughts to himself. Then he thought, No, this is my chance to say something, without we start fighting. He knew from experience, it wasn’t good for them both to be feeling proddy at the same time. Bad things could happen.

He set his emptied mug down on a rock; it made a little scraping noise, but nobody looked at it. Heyes just had his so-brown-they’re-almost-black eyes trained on Curry, and Curry kept his own eyes trained back.

“Well?” Heyes wasn’t smiling so much, now. Maybe even looked a little tensed, with his shoulders like that. It somehow surprised Curry that he could make Heyes tense, just from wondering what Curry was thinking. Seemed like Heyes could usually read his mind, scary accurate.

“Well you used up too much coffee for starters.”

Now Heyes did smile again, relieved and friendly. “That all?”

“You spotted the stream first,” he mumbled, feeling more and more childish the longer this conversation went on. He looked down at the fire and the re-warming biscuits. They were only sorta old and the heat would make ‘em nice again, but he didn’t even feel hungry now, he never could feel hungry when he and Heyes were fighting.

“That’s nothing,” said Heyes calmly. “I was looking for it. I remembered it from being back this way awhile ago.”

Was that better or worse? Curry didn’t know.

Heyes reached for a biscuit. “You hungry, or you got more to say?”

Curry nodded miserably, looking down. “You’re always right.”

“Well you know that ain’t true, Kid.”

“Well you’re smarter than me, then.” He looked up, quick, to try to catch an expression unawares, but Heyes didn’t say anything or give anything away on his face.

At least he didn’t do Curry the rudeness of pretending he was wrong—at least not completely. He looked at Curry a moment, seeming to really see him, think about him, not just sort of pretend to listen. Curry realized he was holding his breath.

Heyes gave him an affectionate smile, one that reached all the way to his dark eyes, making them sort of seem to light up from the inside with friendliness. “Kid, you’re awfully smart. It doesn’t have to be a contest between us.” (But it had been, for awhile, only Heyes hadn’t noticed it.) “Besides,” added Heyes, as if just remembering, “you’re better at shooting than I am—much better.”

But you don’t care, Curry wanted to say. Instead he just sort of nodded, and twitched his mouth, trying to loosen the tight lines on his face, trying to look amenable, because only a jerk would ignore that friendly-proud smile from his cousin, the world’s greatest man named Hannibal.

“Well? You ready to ride, Kid?”

He wasn’t, not really. But they had to.

#

“Heyes.”

They’d been riding several hours, and as far as Curry could tell, were no nearer to a town, ranch, or farm. Just no civilization whatsoever. He’d shot a rabbit, though, for lunch, and that had cheered them both up briefly. But now it was back to glum faces and grumpy thoughts. They were sore from their saddles, prickled with sweat, choking on dust, squinting at the sun, dry and thirsty and low as two outlaws on the run from being outlaws, and everyone else, could be.

Heyes paused to raise his hat and wipe sweat away. His dark hair was plastered down, and he looked as weary as Curry felt. “What is it, Kid?” he asked.

Curry swallowed. His mouth tasted dryer than it ought to, even though he was thirsty. Tasted like dust, too. “You ever pull your charm on me, Heyes?”

Heyes twisted in his saddle, turning to look at him. “What?” A big, incredulous smile grew on his face, and his brows sort of scrunched up. “You think I’m ‘charming’ you? You?”

Curry shrugged one shoulder. “You’re real good at turning that smile on people and talking them into anything. Just wondered if you ever do that to me. I don’t mean, things like…” He hesitated. “Things like telling me what to do.” That was to be expected, because he was older, he’d always been older, and generally smarter, too. “No, I mean tricking me, by, by…” He couldn’t think of the words now, and Heyes was staring at him like he’d grown antlers.

Heyes plastered a smile on his face. “You think I’ve been ‘fooling’ you somehow, all these years?”

Curry shrugged again, feeling like a heel. “I’m just asking.”

Heyes was smiling, but that smile looked hurt, like he didn’t mean it. “So I’m the one that talked us into being outlaws, then trying for amnesty? Kid, every important decision we’ve ever made, we’ve made together.”

 _But did we?_ The words stuck in Curry’s throat. He nodded, and looked away. “Guess you’re right, Heyes.”

Heyes tapped his saddle horn. “Kid, you’re the one that always says I’ve got a silver tongue—not me. Guess you’re starting to believe your own rhetoric.”

Rhetoric, great; another word Curry didn’t know. But this one, he wasn’t going to ask. He just frowned at Heyes. Heyes, this time, frowned back. But he explained. “It means…a story you tell other people, about the way something works. Usually to make something seem better than it is. Well congratulations, Kid. Looks like you fooled yourself, too. If you really think I'm fooling you, maybe we should be going separate ways.” Then he slapped his reins and pulled ahead.

How had it gone so bad, so quick?

“Heyes, wait up.” Curry urged his horse forward. “I was just asking. I wasn’t saying we had to go separate ways. Heyes. Hey. Hannibal.” He caught up with his cousin, and reached across and poked him in the arm. “It ain’t like that. You know that wasn’t what I was saying.”

“Oh? So what were you saying, then, Kid?” He turned to look at him coldly. Curry hated to see that cold look in his cousin's dark eyes--hated worst of all to see it aimed at him. “Think maybe you’d like it if I accused you of deciding things for both of us with your gun?”

Curry swallowed painfully. He had to get this right, had to. Heyes was the one that was good with words, but this time, it had to be Curry… “Well maybe sometimes I have. When I couldn’t back down from a fight, even if you wanted me to. But that don’t mean…” He struggled for the words. “That don’t mean I’m a horrible person, just sometimes what I do ends up affecting the both of us. So I’m asking you, if you’ve ever done that, and maybe not…maybe I haven’t known it.”

Heyes glared at him. “That’s not what you asked. You asked if I ever fooled _you_.”

“Well now I’m asking this.”

They stared at each other. Heyes still looked upset. But even as Curry watched, some of the anger seemed to bleed away. His eyes got less dark, his shoulders loosened, less stiff. Finally, he smiled—a rueful smile, but a big one. His eyes got back some of their internal light. “All right, Kid. Maybe I have. But I still say we’re partners. We decide the important stuff together, and I’ve never been able to fool you about anything important.”

Curry smiled at him and nodded. “That’s true, Heyes. I don’t know how I could forget that.” He was right—Curry could see through Heyes the way no one else could, the way two people who’d grown up together always could. Silver tongue or not—he was still Curry’s slightly older, cocky cousin, the boy who could out-talk anyone, but never fool Curry.

Heyes nodded once, and now his smile looked even realer.

Curry smiled back, then looked ahead, to see if they’d gotten any closer to someplace real. Sure enough, they had. He could just see the twinkling white point of a church spire over a hill in the distance—the first sign of a town. He’d spotted it first.

“Look, Heyes.” He pointed towards the spire, and then turned a smile on his pal. “We’ve come to the end of our road.”

Heyes laughed. “Not for awhile yet, Kid. Not for looong while yet.”

<<<<>>>>


End file.
